


Undead Girl Walking

by Raven_Pen



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, M/M, Multi, Zombie!JD, Zombie!Veronica, chandler's ideas never work out, duke is a ball of rage and badass, mac is definitely qualified to be a doctor, spooky scary skeleboi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Pen/pseuds/Raven_Pen
Summary: In which Veronica is literally a dead girl walking and everyone is trying to survive the zombie apocalypse.





	1. Fresh Meat

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi, you clicked on my story. That's cool. I guess. This is the first thing I'll have posted online. Thanks. Anyway, let's get on to the story.
> 
> TW: Blood/Gore and Cursing

   It was quiet in Sherwood, Ohio. The streets stood empty, with only a few abandoned cars scattered around, here and there. The only life was the shambling human corpse wandering through the streets. She stumbled along, driven by basic instinct alone. Her breath came out in short, ragged gasps. Her milky-white eyes stared vacantly ahead. She moved forward until she came to the old school building, Westerberg High. The building was dilapidated with most of the paint gone or peeling off. The mural of the school’s mascot had long since washed off. Many of the windows were broken, the glass scattered through the overgrown weeds out front. All of them had been boarded up from the inside. The building had a sense of familiarity to her, but that did not matter. She was hungry.

   The smell of fresh blood was coming from the school. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. If she could, she would have felt happy that she was the only one of her kind who sensed it. She climbed the stairs to the front door, attempting to nudge it open. Unfortunately for her, it had also been boarded up. She moved toward the windows, clawing at the boards. She finally gained entry through a small open window in the basement. She tumbled unceremoniously into the boiler room, landing in a heap. She grunted when the floor made contact with her head. She shakily got to her feet and climbed her way out of the basement.

   She walked through the empty hallways, the occasional groan being the only noise. Her head turned from side-to-side as she tasted the air. _There_. She stumbled into an empty classroom. The room was full of overturned desks and bloodstains. On the ground, in a puddle of blood lay her prize. It was a severed arm. Decently fresh. Not much, but she did not care. She fell to the ground and began tearing into it.

 _Crash_. Her head perked up at the sound. She heard a quiet gasp and a shuffling noise coming from the room across the hall. She stood up, arm forgotten and stumbled toward the noise. The smell of fresh meat was overwhelming. She barged into the room, a chemistry lab. Shattered beakers littered the floor. At the center of the room stood her prey. A live human. She drooled at the sight of it. After all, she had never tasted live meat before.

   The human shook with fear as it backed away from her. It defensively held up the croquet mallet it carried. She lunged for it. The human screamed and swung the mallet. It made a sickening crack as it collided with her jaw. She toppled into a large shelf full of chemicals. She hit the ground as the shelf fell on top of her, pinning her. She let out a blood-curdling screech and struggled to no avail. The chemicals soaked into her clothes as they pooled around her. She heard the human step closer and prod her arm with the croquet mallet. She twitched reflexively in response and let out a low groan. The human let out a tiny shriek, dropped its mallet, and ran out the door. She panted heavily before going limp, feeling more tired than she had ever felt. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in weeks, she fell asleep.

◊ ◊ ◊

   She groggily opened her eyes, adjusting to the cracks of sunlight filtering through the boards. She groaned as she attempted to sit up, but found herself stuck in place. _Oh right. Shelf._ Despite the crushing weight of the large shelf, she felt strangely refreshed. Her mind was clearer than it had ever been. With renewed strength, she pushed upwards with all her might, upsetting the shelf just enough for her to pull herself out. The shelf fell back the floor with a heavy thud. She breathed a sigh of relief. _Wait. Sigh? Relief?_ _What the hell?_ She could not remember the last time she had any rational thoughts.

   Her gaze rested on the abandoned croquet mallet. The head was painted with dark blue stripes. _Blue_. She looked at her shirt. Underneath the bloodstains, the shirt was a lighter shade of blue. _Blue_. “Okay, Blue, you’ve got this,” she said.

   She froze when the words left her mouth. _Speaking?_ “Okay, speaking, that’s good, Blue.”

   She cringed. Blue did not sound like a name. “ _What is my name?_ ” she thought.

   She searched her mind, but could not come up with anything other than Blue. “Blue it is then,” she decided.

   Blue looked around the room. She began naming the different objects scattered around the room as knowledge steadily flowed back into her mind. As she looked at the bloodstains that covered the walls and floors of the room a single thought came to her mind. “I was such a shitty person.”

   She grabbed the croquet mallet and stood up. She began stumbling toward the door. “ _Wait_ ,” Blue thought.

   She stood up straight and walked out the door. “This is better.”

   Blue walked through the hallway, holding the croquet mallet over her shoulder. She began looking around the building. The lockers were dented or covered with scratch marks. Over half of the lockers were missing doors. “ _Weird_ ,” Blue thought.

   She kept walking until she reached a stairwell and began to climb. She opened the first door she found. It was a bathroom. She stepped inside walked over to where the sinks were. She looked up and nearly screamed at the sight of her reflection. Her skin was charcoal gray and dotted with splotches of blood. Her clothing was tattered and clung loosely to her frame. Her face was the worst part. Her eyes were completely white. Her mouth was caked in the blood of her previous meal. Her teeth were stained and dirty. There was a large gash on her left cheek. Blue shuddered. “I look like hell,” she breathed.

   She walked toward the sinks in hopes of cleaning some of the blood. Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps and muffled voices coming toward the bathroom. She ducked into a stall and locked the door. The voices became clearer when she heard the bathroom door swing open. Someone stepped into the stall next to her and began retching. “God, Heather, it’s the fucking apocalypse and you _still_ have bulimia? Grow up.” came a snobby voice.

   The person, Heather, responded with more retching. Blue peered through the crack of the stall door, catching a glimpse of blonde hair and a red scrunchie. A human. Her mind thought back to the other human. She had been wearing yellow. The bathroom door swung open and in rushed the yellow human. “Heather!” she cried.

   “What, Heather?” the red scrunchie human growled.

   “ _She’s Heather, too? All of them are called Heather?_ ” Blue thought.

   Yellow Heather frantically said, “I saw a zombie!”

   “It’s the apocalypse, Heather, there are literally zombies for miles,” said the stall Heather, stepping out where Blue could see her.

   Green Heather.

   “Shut up, Heather!” Red Heather said, impatiently.

   “It got stuck under a shelf, but it’s still alive!” Yellow Heather exclaimed.

   Red Heather turned to Green Heather. “Are you done?” she snarled.

   “Yes, Heather,” was Green Heather’s reply.

   The bathroom door slowly opened again. A zombie stumbled in. It groaned as is moved toward the humans. The three Heathers gasped and backed away, Red Heather muttering something under her breath. The zombie groaned and moved toward the humans. Blue gritted her teeth and pulled open her stall door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. She swung the croquet mallet into the zombie’s face, knocking it to the ground. She planted her foot on its chest and begin smashing its head with her mallet. She continued until it was reduced to a bloody pulp. She turned toward the Heathers, fresh zombie blood all over her face and clothes.

   “Um…hi,” she said, awkwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry guys. She won't be called Blue forever.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: I'm writing this in my free time, which is not much, so updates will not happen very often.
> 
> Please comment, it keeps me motivated.


	2. That Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the backstory chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got this done sooner than I expected. Enjoy.

   This was not how Heather Chandler thought her senior year would go. One moment, she was sitting in detention. The next she was fighting for her life against what was left of the student body. She grunted in annoyance as she nailed up another board. “Heather, I’m out of nails!” she called.

   Heather Duke looked up from where she was by the lockers. “I’m kind of busy at the moment, Heather,” she snapped. “Besides, haven’t you nailed up enough already?”

   Duke turned back to the locker she was working on and unscrewed the last hinge. She pulled the door off the locker. Every kind of drug in existence was stuffed inside. “I found Weed Girl’s stash,” she said.

   “Throw it out,” Chandler commanded, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “You are not getting stoned while fighting zombies.”

   Heather Duke pulled off the door of the locker below it. More drugs. “What the fuck?”

   She stood up and dusted herself off. “Heather,” she said.

   “What?” said Chandler.

   “ _Heather_ ,” Duke whined, softly.

   “God damnit,” Chandler snarled, climbing down from where she was.

   As they made their way down the hall together, Chandler’s mind flashed back to the beginning of it all.

◊ ◊ ◊

 _Heather Chandler sat at the desk, bored out of her mind. She groaned, inwardly. “_ Stupid, Heather, getting us caught, _"_ _she thought, angrily._

 _The Heather in question sat to her left, leaning back in her chair with a copy of_ Moby Dick _. Heather McNamara sat on her right, fast asleep, her forehead resting on the desk. A few rows behind her sat Stoner Chick, or Weed Girl, whatever people called her. She looked completely out of it. “_ Seriously, how has she not gotten caught until now? _” Chandler thought._

_Ms. Fleming sat at the front of the room, grading papers for whatever class she taught. Chandler did not care. She groaned, loudly and leaned back in her chair. She looked up at the clock, silently willing it to go faster._

_“Complaining about it isn’t going to make it go faster, Heather,” said Fleming, not looking up at her._

_Suddenly, she heard a loud boom outside. Chandler covered her ears as it rocked the building. McNamara jerked awake. “Whats happening?” she yawned._

_Stoner Chick was completely undisturbed. Ms. Fleming grabbed the small radio by the window. She began turning knobs. "_ Nuclear…power plant…motorcycle… trench coat...explosion... _"_

_Fleming cursed and carried the radio out the door. Heather Chandler followed her, curious of what was happening. Duke closed her book and ran after her. McNamara began to follow them before walking back and pulling Stoner Chick out of her seat._

_Chandler followed the teacher through the hallways. They were the only ones left at the school, aside from the after school clubs on the other side of the building. She followed her up a couple flights of stairs until they reached the rooftop door. The roof was supposed to be off-limits students, but it had become one of the main hang-out places of the school’s sports teams after someone had broken the door handle years ago. Chandler had only been up there once. The jocks had dragged up a couple benches and the whole place was covered in stains. Most of them had been spitting and/or pissing off the edge of the roof. Kurt had been pitching empty cans to Ram who hit them with a baseball bat. She hated it._

_Fleming opened the door. Suddenly, they were blasted by the sound of sirens. Chandler ran out the door and looked around. A large column of smoke rose in the distance. Car alarms and police sirens were going off everywhere. She looked down at the street and was greeted with a horrible sight. People were tearing into each other like feral beasts. Blood was everywhere. She looked away and grimaced._

_Her gaze fell on Heather Duke, who stood beside her. She looked sick to her stomach. Duke backed away, slowly, her eyes wide._

_“Girls,” said Fleming, a serious look on her face. “Stay put until I come back.”_

_Chandler stared at her. She had never seen her with that look before. Ms. Fleming walked over to the door and pulled it open. Out rushed Heather McNamara carrying Stoner Chick. “They’re coming!” she cried.”_

_Despite her petite build, McNamara was one of the most athletic girls in school due to her position as head cheerleader. Groans echoed through the stairwell as what was left of the student council ascended. Fleming slammed the door shut. “Bar the door!” she shouted._

_Chandler sprung into action. She grabbed a bench and began pulling it toward the door. Fleming propped it against the door as Chandler ran for another bench. They leaned back against the door, holding it shut with all their might. “I could use some help over here!” Chandler yelled at Duke._

_Duke was frozen in place. McNamara screamed. Stoner Chick was staggering toward her, growling. “Heather!” Chandler cried._

◊ ◊ ◊

   “Heather... _Heather_.”

   Duke’s voice broke Chandler out of her trance. “Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?” Duke snapped.

   “Shut up, Heather,” growled Chandler.

   They walked into the bathroom. Duke ran into a stall and began retching. “God, Heather,” Chandler said. “It’s the fucking apocalypse and you _still_ have bulimia?”

   More retching. Chandler sighed and looked in the mirror. These days, she did not wear much makeup anymore. After all, it was only herself, Heather, and Heather now. The door burst open and McNamara rushed in. “Heather!” she cried, latching on to Chandler’s arm.

   “What, Heather?” said Chandler, making an attempt to pry McNamara off.

   “I saw a zombie!” McNamara whined.

   “It’s the apocalypse, Heather. There are literally zombies for miles,” said Duke, stepping out of the stall.

   “Shut up, Heather!” barked Chandler.

   “It got stuck under a shelf but it’s still alive,” McNamara said, frantically.

   “Are you done?” asked Chandler, impatiently.

   “Yes, Heather,” replied Duke.

   Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. A zombie staggered in. They recognized who it was immediately. Ms. Fleming. They backed away slowly. Chandler cursed, “not her, not her.”

   They were completely unarmed, defenseless. Another stall door opened with a loud _bang_. Someone rushed out and swung McNamara’s croquet mallet at the zombie. The zombie fell to the floor. The person stood over and began smashing its head with the mallet, blood spraying everywhere.

   After what felt like forever, they stopped. Their savior turned toward them. The Heathers gasped in surprise. It was another zombie.

   “Um...hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next couple chapters are mostly filler and a bit more backstory.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated.


	3. What She Saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, more flashbacks and an attempt at writing McNamawyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm declaring September 1st as Veronica Day.
> 
> A/N: For some reason, a small line in the last chapter did not copy over. This has been fixed.

    The Heathers stared, slack-jawed at the zombie. “Did it just-?” Duke started.

   “Impossible,” gasped Chandler.

   The zombie tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

   “You can talk?” exclaimed McNamara, releasing Chandler’s arm.

   The zombie slowly nodded. “Oh! Uh...I’m Blue,” she said.

   She held out her hand. The Heathers looked at it. It was covered in blood. The zombie noticed this and wiped it on her skirt. It did not help.

   Heather Chandler cautiously moved toward her. She circled her, ready to jump away if the zombie attacked. She stopped in front of her, mustering the courage to touch the strange creature. She carefully reached out and gently poked the zombie’s shoulder. The zombie raised a brow, eyeing her curiously. “ _So she is real_ ,” thought Chandler.

   Chandler gave the zombie a once-over. Perhaps she would be useful. She had a nice face. But her clothes, Chandler’s nose scrunched up in disgust, those clothes had to go. The zombie wore a gray cardigan and what was once a blue undershirt. She wore a darker gray skirt and black stockings, torn at the knee. A faded, blue scarf hung loosely around her neck. All of it was covered in bloodstains. Chandler grabbed the zombie’s face, tilting it to different angles. “Well, you do have good bone structure,” she noted.

   “And a symmetrical face,” McNamara piped up, running over to them. “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.”

   “Although, she could stand to lose a few pounds,” commented Duke.

   “So, Blue, was it?” said Chandler, grinning. “We’re going to make you beautiful.”

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue and McNamara crept through the hallway. Although most of the zombies in the school had been wiped out, most of them by Heather Duke, there were still some wandering around the school. “This way,” said McNamara, turning a corner.

   They entered the girl’s locker room. All of the lockers still had their doors, as Duke had not gotten to them yet. Blue sniffed the air. One of the lockers smelled like weed. “The showers are over here,” called McNamara.

   Heather Chandler had sent McNamara to take Blue to clean herself up, while she and Duke found a fresh set of clothes for the zombified adolescent. “We can’t work with her smelling like shit,” Chandler had said.

   Blue walked over to where she was. “Oh yeah,” she said, remembering the croquet mallet she still carried. “I wanted to return this to you.”

   “Oh, that’s okay,” said McNamara. “You can keep it. You’re much better with it after all.”

   “What are you talking about?” said Blue, looking at her in surprise. “You hit me in the face and then I got crushed by a shelf.”

   McNamara flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry about that, Blue,” she said, nervously.

   “No hard feelings!” laughed Blue. “I mean, I wanted to eat you, so…”

   They both chuckled. Blue stepped into a shower stall and began undressing. McNamara grabbed a towel from the rack and placed it where Blue could get to it easily. Blue’s head peeked out from inside the stall. “Hey, uh, Heather?” she said, holding out her bloodstained clothes. “Would you mind taking these for me?”

   “Oh, sure!” chirped McNamara. “You can call me Mac, by the way.”

   “Thanks, Mac,” said Blue, disappearing back into the shower stall. “FUCK, it’s cold,” she shouted when the water hit her.

   McNamara leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart was pounding. Why had she done that? Why had Heather Chandler accepted the zombie so easily? She slid to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes, memories of that day coming back to her.

◊ ◊ ◊

_Heather McNamara screamed. Stoner Chick was staggering toward her, growling. Her sunglasses fell off, revealing her milky-white eyes. The world slowed down around her. She could barely register Chandler’s cries of terror. She fell to the ground and stared up at the beast, its rotting face burned its way into her memory. She covered her head, cowering in fear._

_Suddenly, a baseball bat collided with the zombies head, tearing off the body and sending it flying. Heather Duke stood over the headless body and kicked it off the roof. McNamara had become a sobbing mess, hugging herself and crying. Droplets of zombie blood stained her yellow dress and blonde curls. She felt someone’s arms wrap around her. “It’s okay, Heather, I’ve got you,” whispered Duke._

_McNamara hugged Duke, her tears soaking through her green blazer._

◊ ◊ ◊

   The shower stopped and Blue stepped out. McNamara looked away and fiddled with the hem of her yellow skirt while Blue dried herself off. “Hey, uh, Mac, I’m done,” said Blue.

   McNamara looked up, her face immediately flushing. Blue stood before her with only a towel covering her body. Her dark locks were still damp. McNamara looked her up and down. Aside from the gash on her cheek, Blue still had most of her flesh, unlike other zombies. Her skin had lightened to an ash gray color. Without all the dirt and blood, Blue looked _beautiful_. McNamara could not help but stare.

   “Um...Mac? Are you alright?”

   McNamara bolted upright. “Y-yeah! I’m fine!” she said.

   “...Okay then,” said Blue.

   Blue held out her hand. McNamara hesitantly took it and pulled herself up. “ _If Heather trusts her, then I guess I can, too_ ,” she thought.

   Mac smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip Stoner Chick
> 
> Thank you for all the support! Comments are always appreciated.


	4. The Living and the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More filler. YAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone in hurricane areas, I hope you all are safe.
> 
> UPDATE: I changed a small part of this chapter. I think it works better.

   “We’re back, bitches!” shouted Duke, as she burst into the locker room.

   “Shut up, Heather!” yelled Chandler.

   She tossed a set of clothes at Blue. “Here,” said Chandler.

   “Where did you find these?” asked Blue.

   “Courtney’s locker, now go,” was Chandler’s response.

   She shoved Blue back into the shower stall. Chandler picked up Blue’s old clothing and began digging through the pockets of the zombie’s cardigan. She pulled out a monocle and a tin of breath mints. She stuffed them both into her blazer. “ _Breath mints might come in handy_ ,” she thought.

   The zombie stepped out, a blush visible on her face. She wore a bright blue blazer with matching socks that reached just below her knees. She wore a short gray skirt that showed off her legs. If Blue looked that good as a zombie, she would have looked even better as a human. “ _Damn,_ ” thought Chandler, her face reddening.

   Blue looked down at the skirt. “A-are you sure this is-”

   “YES!” said Mac, grabbing Blue’s arm.

   Duke rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving,” she said, flatly.

   She propped her baseball bat on her shoulder and left the room. Chandler wrapped the scarf around her neck and handed the tattered clothing to Mac. “Heather, be a dear and bring these back to camp,” she said, smirking. “I want to spend some ‘quality time’ with our new friend, here.”

◊ ◊ ◊

   Chandler and Blue walked through the hallway, the zombie carrying a large backpack. “Jesus, Heather, how much shit have you got in here?” said Blue.

   “Not even half the shit we’re carrying back,” Chandler replied.

   The blonde was scribbling in a small notepad, muttering under her breath. She had stuffed Blue’s scarf into her vibrant red blazer. Her clothing was torn in a few places, but it was what she had always worn, right down to the heels. “ _Very impractical considering the current situation_ ,” thought Blue.

   Suddenly, a zombie stepped out from an old classroom. “I got it,” said Blue, dropping her backpack and readying her croquet mallet.

   She grabbed the back of the zombie’s white sweater and dragged it back into the room. Chandler heard a loud _thwack_ and a dying moan. Blue reappeared, bloodstained croquet mallet in hand. “Was it just that one?” asked Chandler.

   “Yeah,” replied Blue.

   “Good, we’re almost there.”

   Chandler pushed open a door. “Here we are, the cafeteria kitchen,” she said.

   They walked in. “Grab everything that doesn’t look too expired,” said Chandler.

   The two began digging through cabinets and shelves, shoving food into their backpacks. Chandler pulled open a drawer. Drugs. She huffed and turned around to check on Blue. “Why are you grabbing so much oregano?” asked Chandler, watching Blue stuff several containers into the backpack.

   The zombie shrugged and grabbed a package of spaghetti. “Grab some pots too if we’re cooking that,” said Chandler.

   “M’kay,” said Blue.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Duke and Mac waited in the classroom. The room had once belonged to Ms. Fleming. They had cleared out the rest of desks and chairs. Their former teacher had kept pillows and blankets in her classroom, all of which were strewn across the floor in some type of giant makeshift bed. It had become their home base after they managed to get off the roof.

   Duke gazed at the broken glasses sitting on the teacher’s desk and sighed. The door flew open and Chandler strode in, Blue following soon after. The zombie removed her backpack. “Heather, help me drag this shit up to the roof,” said Chandler.

   Duke trudged over and grabbed the large backpack, following Chandler back into the hallway. Blue turned to follow them, but Mac grabbed her wrist. “I want to clean that cut on your face,” the yellow girl said, holding up a small first-aid kit.

   Blue sat down on a large pillow, Mac kneeling beside her. She allowed Mac to gently wipe disinfectant into her wound, flinching when it made contact. The human carefully stuck a band-aid over it. Mac beamed, proud of her work. Blue gave her a small smile. “Thanks,” she said.

   Mac grabbed her hand and helped her up. “We should catch up with them,” she said, pulling the zombie out the door.

   Blue stumbled along behind her, her legs unused to running. The small girl was surprisingly strong. Blue could feel the flesh near her elbow ripping. “M-Mac!” she called. “My arm’s going to-”

 _Rip_. The zombie’s forearm was torn clean off. Blue slowed down, staring at her stump of an arm. “Mac! Stop!” she cried.

   The yellow Heather turned around, noticing that the zombie was several feet behind her. She looked down and saw the severed limb she carried. Mac screamed and dropped the arm. “Ow,” said Blue, when the arm hit the floor.

   The arm flinched. Blue stared at it in shock. The arm felt as though it was still attached to her. She tried moving it, clenching and unclenching its fist. The arm responded to every movement she wanted to make. She shuddered, it felt wrong. Mac was leaning against the wall, clutching her chest. Mac slowly walked over and poked the arm. It reflexively twitched. Mac jumped away. She carefully walked over to it again and picked it up. She went over to Blue, grabbing her stump arm. Mac began reattaching it. The arm stayed for a moment before falling to the floor. Mac picked it up again and lead Blue back to the classroom. “I can fix this,” she said.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Chandler and Duke sat on the roof. The sun had set an hour earlier. They had managed to get a fire going and were cooking a large pot of spaghetti over the flames. Duke was busy throwing the drugs they had found off the roof. “How many stashes does that bitch have?” she growled.

   The door to the roof swung open, revealing Mac and Blue. “What took you dorks so long?” asked Duke, walking back over to the fire.

   Blue held up her newly reattached arm, showing the stitches around her elbow. “Little accident,” she said.

   “Hurry up, dinner’s ready,” said Chandler, removing the lid from the pot. “Spaghetti, with lots of oregano.”

   They each took bowls and sat around the fire. Blue quickly wolfed down her food and held out her bowl, begging for seconds. When she was finished, she lay back and sighed, her hunger satisfied. “Man, I haven’t had anything vegan in a long time,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “Except maybe that vegan’s guts that one time.”

   Chandler and Mac chuckled a little, while Duke huffed and looked away.

   “By the way, what are you guys burning?” asked Mac. “We ran out of fuel yesterday.”

   Duke and Chandler looked at each other. “Just some stuff we found,” said Duke.

   “Those look a lot like...clothes,” said Blue, sitting up.

   “They just...happened to come our way, I guess,” said Chandler.

◊ **Bonus** ◊ **Scene** ◊

   They walked back to the old classroom, flashlights illuminating the dark hallway. The four walked inside, locking the door behind them. Duke and Chandler pushed a cabinet in front of the door, barricading it. They crawled under the blankets, Chandler and Mac on either side of Blue. Duke was pressed against Chandler. Chandler reached out and shut off the flashlight. They closed their eyes, attempting to fall asleep.

   “Um, Heather?” said Duke.

   “What, Heather?” Chandler snapped.

   “You shut off the flashlight, right?” asked Duke.

   “ _Yes_ ,” Chandler said back.

   “Then why the hell is there still light?”

   “Oh, uh, my eyes kind of glow in the dark,” Blue piped up.

   “God dammit.”

   “TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!”

   “MAC, STOP HUGGING ME I CAN’T BREATHE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip Young Republicanette
> 
> The next update might not be here for a while, just to warn you.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are welcome.


	5. Corn Nut Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather Chandler runs out of corn nuts. Run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. I just wanted to get this chapter out. The next could take awhile. For real this time. I'm just going to hide in my bunker now.

   “God dammit!” shouted Duke.

   Mac, Blue, and herself were currently in the middle of an intense card game. Mac had just slapped for the fifth time in a row. “Doubles again! Hah!” said Mac, triumphantly sliding the pile of cards toward herself.

   Blue put down a card. Queen of Hearts. “It’s pretty late, shouldn’t Heather be up by now?” she asked, looking at the room across the hall.

   “She usually sleeps in,” replied Duke, adding a card to the pile.

   King of Clubs. Mac slapped. “Marriage!”

   Duke groaned as Mac set down her card, a King of Spades. Blue looked at her pile and frowned. Three cards left. She placed them on the main pile, one at a time. Nine of Hearts. Three of Diamonds. Nine of Spades.  _ Slap _ . “Sandwich!” sang Mac.

   “I’m out,” said Blue, leaning back in her chair.

   She looked over at Duke, who looked ready to flip the table. “You’re next,” said Mac, grinning at Duke.

   “That’s it!” roared Duke, slamming her hands on the table and standing up.

   She leaped across the table at Mac, cards flying everywhere. The yellow Heather giggled as she ran around the room with Duke hot on her tail.

   “Jesus fucking Christ, are you two mentally five?”

   Chandler stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She stumbled over to the closet the Heathers used as a pantry and began digging through it. Blue knelt on the floor and started picking up the fallen cards. Mac sat down beside her and grabbed a few cards. “I guess we should call this a draw?” she asked.

   Duke sat on one of the desks. “Sure, whatever,” she said.

   “Heather,” said Chandler, leaning out of the closet.

   Duke looked at her. “Yeah?”

   “Where the  _ fuck _ are my corn nuts?” Chandler growled.

   “We’re out,” said Duke, matter-of-factly.

   “What do you mean we’re out?” snapped Chandler, stalking over to Duke.

   “I mean, we’re out,” replied Duke. “I’ve broken into every vending machine in this building. There are no more.”

   Chandler groaned in frustration and turned around, her gaze falling on Blue. A smile slowly formed on her face. The zombie looked up and tilted her head to the side. “What?” she said.

◊ ◊ ◊

   “Are you sure this will work?” asked Blue.

   The Heathers were tying together several blankets into a makeshift rope. “Yes,” said Chandler, handing the zombie a backpack. “It’s very simple. After you climb down, go up the street until you reach the 7-Eleven. It’s a couple of miles away, but there’s a bigass sign in front so you can’t miss it.”

   Blue nodded. “And what do I need to get?”

   “I just need you to grab some corn nuts- fuck it, all the corn nuts,” replied Chandler.

   “And some twinkies, if you can,” Mac piped up.

   Chandler pushed the zombie over to the window. Blue swung the backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her croquet mallet. She gripped the rope and began shimmying down the side of the building. The window was on the second floor, so she did not have very far to go. She reached the bottom and looked up. Mac stuck her head out of the window and waved. “Good luck!” called the yellow Heather, before disappearing back inside.

   “Thanks, Mac,” said Blue, as she turned and walked toward the road.

   The zombie looked around. The town looked worse than she remembered. The buildings stood, forlorn and empty. Broken glass and dried blood littered the ground. An empty plastic bag blew past and disappeared behind a building. Up ahead, she could see several zombies wandering around, aimlessly. She passed by an alleyway and was hit by the overwhelming stench of blood. She gagged and covered her mouth. A couple of her former kin were gathered around a corpse. She looked closer. The corpse was still moving.  _ Cannibalism _ . She grimaced. Sometimes, a zombie’s hunger became too great for them to handle, driving them to tear apart their own kind. Blue had only experienced it once. She shook her head, locking away the memory.

   One of the zombies looked up at her, it’s empty eyes glowing softly in the dark alleyway. It got to its feet and stumbled toward her. Blue backed away, slowly. The zombie moved closer and began sniffing her blazer. “ _ Shit! I smell like a human! _ ” she cursed.

   Thinking quickly, she bared her teeth and let out a low growl. The zombie froze and looked back up at her. Blue leaned closer and snarled.  _ Back off _ ! The zombie got the message and stumbled back into the alley. Blue sighed in relief and kept moving.

   She hunched over and began mimic the familiar movements of her former self. It would take longer for her to reach her destination, but it would hopefully keep other zombies off her tail. She stumbled through the empty streets, growling at any zombies that got too close for comfort.

   After about an hour of walking, she reached the 7-Eleven. The large sign had fallen to the ground, creating a large crater in the street. Several sparks were flying out of it. “ _ So this place still has power _ ,” she thought.

   She carefully maneuvered her way around it and made her way toward the building. The door had already been wedged open, signalling that someone had been there before her. Hopefully, they were long gone by now, and alive. Blue squeezed in and looked around. The store was dark, but thanks to her bioluminescent eyes, she could see just fine. She walked through the aisles, the store was surprisingly clean. All of the snack foods were still lined up on the shelves, untouched. She spotted the twinkies and shoved a few boxes in her bag. “ _ That should be enough for Mac _ ,” she thought. “ _ Now for corn nuts _ .”

   She looked around the store, checking each aisle, carefully. She finally found them near where she had come in. She bent down and looked through them. “ _ Did she say BQ or plain _ ?” she thought.

   She sighed and began grabbing bags. She froze and sniffed the air. There was someone standing behind her. She whirled around and gasped at what she saw.

   “Greetings and salutations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cliffy that is why I have a bunker.
> 
> Anyone who can guess what Duke, Mac, and Ronnie are playing can join me in my bunker. We have enough slushies, corn nuts, and mountain dew red for everyone. There are cookies and punch by the door.


	6. Swanky First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you've been a bad boy you breadstick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been dying to write this chapter for a while. Enjoy.
> 
> TW: Descriptions of gore and spooky scary skeleboi

   Blue froze and sniffed the air. There was someone standing behind her. She whirled around and gasped at what she saw.

   “Greetings and salutations.”

   It was another zombie. One like her, but not. What remained of a dark trench coat covered most of his body, but from what she could see, most of his flesh was gone, like it had melted off. His entire rib cage was exposed, showing what internal organs he had left. She could see his heart beating, still pumping blood through the ruined veins that clung to his bones. He held a slushie in his left hand. She looked up at his face. It was probably the one of the only places that was not just bone. The left half of his face was intact, but the other half… Blue stared at it. The shredded skin clung loosely to his skull, revealing the pale white bone underneath. His exposed teeth twisted his face into a disturbing grin. A tuft of dark hair covered where his right eye should have been, but judging by the condition of that side of his face, Blue assumed that there was no eye there.

   “It’s dreadful etiquette to stare, you know,” said the stranger.

   Blue shook her head. “Um...sorry, hi,” she said.

   He eyed her, and took a sip of his slushie, tilting his head back so that it would not spill out of the side of his face. He reached out and grabbed Blue’s chin, tilting her face up a little. His visible eye widened in surprise. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

   Blue raised a brow. “Huh?”

   The zombie ran a hand through his hair, grinning to himself. “Holy shit! Holy shit!” he kept repeating. “I thought I fucked up back then, but this, this is a sign! It has to be!”

   “What are you talking about?” asked Blue, shrinking back, nervously.

   The zombie lunged forward and hugged her. “It’s you! I can’t believe it! Reunited where we first met!”

   “Who are you?” whispered Blue.

   The zombie froze and stared at her. “It’s me! Jason Dean, J.D.! Don’t you remember?”

   Blue shook her head, pulling away from his grasp. “No, I don’t. I don’t remember anything before I became this.”

   J.D. stared at her. “W-what?” he said, his voice shaking.

   “I’m sorry,” said Blue, looking down at her shoes.

   He reached out to grab her shoulder. “But, V-”

   Blue backpedaled and tripped over her backpack. She quickly grabbed it and scurried out the door. J.D. balled his hands into tight fists. His slushie cup was crushed under the pressure. He watched as the blue liquid dripped off of his hand. He gritted his death and slammed his fist into the wall, denting it. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” he shouted, repeatedly punching the wall.

   He looked down at his hand, the flesh on his knuckles had torn off. He leaned his head against the wall, chuckling humorlessly to himself. “Dammit…” he whispered.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue ran through the streets, as fast as her legs could carry her. The other zombies gazed at her as she sped past them before going back to whatever they were doing. Blue turned a corner and ducked into an alleyway. She leaned against the wall, panting. She clutched her chest, her heart was beating, furiously. “ _I don’t remember having a heartbeat_ ,” she thought.

   She sat down, setting the backpack next to her. She tilted her head back and looked at the sky. It was covered in gray clouds, like all the color had been sapped out of it. “ _What color was it before?_ ” thought Blue. “ _I don’t remember_.”

   She closed her eyes. “ _Why don’t I remember?_ ”

   The zombie gritted her teeth, thinking back to before the Heathers. _Fresh meat. The smell of blood. Screams. Hunger. The dying moans of her kin as she sank her teeth into its flesh._ She shook her head, searching for anything human. She came up empty. She yelped when a wave of pain coursed through her skull. “Who am I?” she whispered, the pain growing. “Who am I?”

   “JUST TELL ME! I NEED TO KNOW!” she screamed as she clawed at her hair, the pain becoming unbearable.

   She buried her face in her hands, choking back a sob. She felt something warm and sticky on her cheeks. She drew back her hands and stared at them. They were covered in blood. The stitches on her left arm caught her eye. She gently touched them, cracking a small smile. She looked at her clothes, reminding herself of whom they were from. She looked at the backpack, remembering her task. She carefully wiped away her bloody tears and grabbed the bag, hugging it close. She looked back up at the sky. A bit of sunlight had broken through, a little beam of light hitting the wall next to her. Through the hole, she could see the pale, blue sky. “Blue…” she breathed, reaching for it.

◊ ◊ ◊

   J.D. watched, just out of sight, as the female zombie reached toward the sky, his eye narrowed. He angrily puffed on a cigarette. His hand brushed against the gun in his pocket. “I killed the dinosaurs for you, darling,” he whispered. “You’ll remember that. I’ll make sure you do. I’ll make sure you remember, our love is God.”

   He spat out his cigarette. He raised his foot and stomped on it, grinding into the ground. The zombie turned and disappeared around a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slushie zomboi is very messed up in this.
> 
> btw: the canon timeline is a bit different in this au. For clarification, JD moved to Sherwood before September 1st.
> 
>  
> 
> Ronnie needs a hug.


	7. School Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke is a badass now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this was fun to write.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of blood and vomit.

   Duke walked through the empty hallways of Westerburg High, her footsteps echoing through the corridors. Her sharp, green eyes looking for any signs of movement. Moonlight filtered through the cracks between the boards covering the windows. Blue had returned earlier that evening, passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow. The other Heathers had soon followed. Duke had left room, pushing the heavy bookshelf aside just enough for her to squeeze out the door. She sighed and gripped her baseball bat tighter.

   She came across a large pile of overturned desks. It was the remains of a barricade. It had been Chandler’s idea to set them up around the school using the desks and tables in all of the empty classrooms. It did not work.

   Suddenly, a zombie shuffled out of one of the classrooms on the other side. Duke quickly ducked down behind the barricade. She could hear the zombie’s heavy panting growing closer. She felt the floor around her, her hand finding a rusty screw. She picked it up and looked at it. She carefully pushed herself up a bit and craned her neck to see over the desk she hid behind. The zombie was almost upon her. She quickly chucked the screw over the desk. The screw clattered on the ground behind the zombie. It froze and turned around, trying to find the source of the sound. Duke grabbed her bat and leaped over the desks. The zombie turned just in time to be introduced to the end of Duke’s bat. Its jaw flew off and splattered against the wall. The zombie fell to the ground. Duke repeatedly slammed her bat against its rotting body. Cracks resounded through the hall as its bones were shattered under the heavy blows. Blood sprayed everywhere, soaking Duke’s face and hair. She stopped, panting. The zombie shuddered and fell limp, blood pooling around its corpse. Duke wiped the blood from her eyes and mouth. She looked down at herself, her green blazer was drenched in the dark liquid. She kicked aside what was left of the zombie and continued down the dark hallway.

   She did not recognize this part of the school, but somehow it felt oddly familiar. There was a heavy feeling that something had happened here, but she was unsure of what. _Crunch_. She stepped on something. She lifted her foot to see a broken pair of glasses. The ground around them was covered with dried blood. She looked up to see a door at the end of the hall covered with bloody handprints. She knew exactly where she was. With shaking hands, she pulled open the door, revealing a small closet. Several boxes were inside, their contents spilling all over the floor. Duke quickly slammed the door shut as memories began to resurface.

◊ ◊ ◊

_The rain poured down outside as a clap of thunder shook the building. Duke and Ms. Fleming raced through the hallway as a hoard of zombies stumbled after them. The sudden downpour had caused them to swarm into the school building. Duke was unsure of where Chandler and McNamara were, as far as she knew, Fleming and herself were the only ones left. The two quickly climbed over a desk barricade. “Will it hold them?” asked Duke, fearfully._

_The barricade fell to the ground, the zombies tripping over the desks to get to them. They continued running, the growls of their pursuers growing closer. They reached the end of the hall. “Dammit!” shouted Duke, slamming her fist against the wall._

_The teen turned around, readying her bat. Ms. Fleming threw open the closet door and shoved Duke inside. She attempted to close the door, but Duke pushed back. “What are you doing?” the teen cried._

_Fleming looked at her apologetically before forcing the door shut and locking it. Duke pounded on the door, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably. The former teacher leaned back against the door and glanced at her arm. Blood soaked through her sweater from a fresh bite wound on her shoulder. She sighed, looking up at the crowd of zombies stumbling toward her, familiar faces all of them. She looked at the one at the front, letting out a dry chuckle, “probably a bad time to mention that I faked it, every time.”_

_That was the last thing Duke heard before they descended upon her former teacher. She screamed and threw her body against the door, but it refused to budge. Suddenly, she heard something scratch at the door. Duke stumbled back, tripping over several boxes. Tears ran down her face as the zombies attempted to break in. Her sobs quieted down to soft whimpers. She huddled in the corner of the dark closet, crying softly._

_The scratching stopped and the crowd of zombies began shuffling away. Duke looked down at her feet. She could barely see the outline of her bat in the darkness of the closet. She grabbed it, her fear turning to anger. She had no time to cower like a child. She needed to find the other Heathers._

_Duke pulled two bobby pins out of her hair and began biting off the rubberized ends of one of them. She knelt down by the doorknob, slipping the wires into the keyhole. “_ Who makes a closet that locks on the outside _?” she thought._

 _The pins clicked into place and she pushed the door open. A lone zombie stood in the hallway, its back to her. Duke dashed out, roaring with fury. The zombie was smashed apart instantly, blood flying everywhere. The crowd of zombies began stumbling toward Duke. The girl grinned, bloodlust taking over. "Come at me you_ fucks _,” she hissed._

◊ ◊ ◊

   Duke shook her head, forcing the memories to the back of her mind. She had somewhere else to be. She picked up the glasses and carefully tucked them into her pocket. She left the hallway and continued through the school. She pushed open the door to the girl’s bathroom. " _Another round of purging_ ,” she thought, bitterly.

   Chandler was right, it was stupid considering their current situation, but Duke could not bring herself to stop. Duke froze when the sound of retching echoed through the room. She yanked open the door to reveal Blue hunched over the toilet, spitting out partially digested spaghetti and chunks of meat. All desire to purge was suddenly gone. Heather Duke’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

   Blue looked up in surprise before quickly turning back and coughing up more food. When she was done, she stood up and wiped her mouth. “I think it’s pretty obvious,” she rasped.

   Duke glared at the zombie. “You know what I mean,” she snapped.

   “Fine,” huffed Blue. “I can’t exactly digest food like you do, so I end up spitting it back up when my body’s done with it.”

   “Is it like that with all zombies?” asked Duke.

   Blue nodded. “Yeah.”

   The zombie coughed and turned back to the stall. She spat out more food. Duke knelt down next to her, carefully gathering the zombie’s hair and holding it back. Blue looked up at her. “Why?” she whispered.

   “Why not?” said Duke, shrugging.

   Blue finally emptied her stomach. She sat back, sighing. Duke dug around the pockets of her blazer and pulled out a tin of breath mints. She held out the tin. “I swiped these from Heather,” said Duke.

   Blue opened the tin and popped one in her mouth. “Thanks,” said the zombie.

   “Don’t mention it,” said Duke, leaning against the stall. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell them about this.”

   “Oh...thanks,” Blue said again.

   Duke leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

◊ ◊ ◊

_Duke stalked through the hallways, her eyes searching for her next target. She was covered head-to-toe in blood. A zombie’s severed head dangled from her left hand. Corpses littered the floor around her._

_“Heather?”_

_Duke whirled around, dropping the head. Chandler and McNamara were running toward her. McNamara jumped on her. “Oh my god, you’re alive!” the yellow Heather cried._

_Chandler grabbed Duke and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t fucking ever scare Heather like that again!” Chandler growled._

_Duke was frozen in shock. Chandler_ never _hugged anyone. Suddenly, she felt exhaustion from her killing spree setting in. Her vision faded as she fell into Chandler’s embrace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Duke killed all of them.
> 
>  
> 
> I keep forgetting to say this, but if anyone is interested I'm on the Heathers Amino under the name Raven Pen. I'm usually open to chat.


	8. Que Sera Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a week from the previous chapter. Just some short filler.
> 
> TW: Some descriptions of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: The previous chapter has a little bit added to it. Somehow it didn't copy over.

_When I grew up and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart,_

_“What lies ahead?_

_Will we have rainbows day after day?”_

_Here’s what my sweetheart said_

 

   Static took over the music. Duke punched the radio, the music faded in and out. “Heather, the damn thing won’t work!” called Duke.

   “Maybe you should stop punching it, dumbass!” snapped Chandler, clipping a shirt onto the makeshift clothesline.

   The group sat in what the Heathers had designated as their "laundry room," aka the girl’s locker room. Blue and Mac sat on the floor, sorting through a pile of clothing. Chandler grabbed a blazer from the pile. It was covered in blood. She glared at Duke. “Heather, what the fuck?” she growled.

   “What?” said Duke.

   Chandler shoved the blazer toward Duke. “You know what I’m talking about, bitch! This is the third time this week! Do you know how long it takes to scrub out bloodstains?”

   “Then why don’t you start now?” sneered Duke.

   Chandler lunged at Duke with surprising speed. Duke barely had any time to duck out of the way as Chandler grabbed her arm. She twisted out of the red Heather’s grip and escaped into the rows of lockers with Chandler chasing after her. “Where are you, you bitch?” Chandler screamed.

   “Uh...should we intervene?” asked Blue

   Mac shook her head. “Not yet, wait ‘till she grabs her mallet,” the yellow heather replied.

   Chandler rushed back out and grabbed her red croquet mallet.

   “She grabbed it, now what?” said the zombie.

   “Now, we run,” Mac responded, grabbing the radio and racing out the door.

   Blue ran after her. The sound of a croquet mallet hitting a locker door echoed through the hall, along with shouts of, “I know you’re in here, Heather!”

   “By the way,” said Blue. “Where did you guys get that radio from?”

   “It belonged to the school,” replied Mac. “The signal is really bad over here, though.”

   She flicked the antennae, attempting to get rid of the static.

   “If it still works, then someone must be broadcasting from somewhere,” said Blue. “Have you tried looking for any other survivors?”

   Mac shook her head. “No, we haven’t left the beginning since this all started,” she said. “Did you see anything while you were out there last week?”

   Blue froze, thinking back to her encounter at the 7-Eleven. “N-no, I didn’t,” the zombie said, quickly.

   Mac nodded, slowly, and continued down the hall. Blue took a deep breath, her eyes widened in surprise as a strange scent wafted by. She looked around, attempting to find the source. She pushed open the door to a small classroom. Her gaze fell on the corpses that inside. She stared at the one closest to her. There was something about it that she could not describe. Her mouth watered, a tiny bit of drool escaping out of the corner of her mouth.

   “Blue?...Blue!”

   Mac grabbed the zombie’s shoulder, snapping her out of her stupor. “Hey...are you alright?” said Mac, her voice filled with concern.

   Blue touched her head. “Y-yeah…it’s nothing.”

   She tore her gaze away from the room, quickly shutting the door behind her. Mac looked at her, suspiciously. She carefully grabbed the zombie’s hand and led her down the hall. The zombie looked back at the room. “ _Definitely nothing_ ,” she thought.

   Mac twisted the radio antennae again, the music returned.

 

_Que sera, sera_

_Whatever will be, will be_

_The future’s not ours to see_

_Que sera, sera_

_What will be, will be_

◊ ◊ ◊

   Duke panted, attempting to look out the small gaps in the door of the locker she was currently situated in. She held her breath as the shadow of Heather Chandler passed by for the third time and disappear around a corner. She heard the door to the locker room open and shut. The green Heather let out a sigh of relief and attempted to open the locker door. The door did not budge. She kicked it, the door was stuck tight. “Shit,” she cursed.

   She began banging on the door, hoping that Blue or Mac would find her. The door was suddenly yanked open, revealing a pissed off Heather Chandler holding a croquet mallet. “Found you,” said Chandler, a disturbing grin on her face.

   It was at that moment Duke knew, she was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duke is still alive, don't worry.
> 
> Out of the characters shown so far in the story, Duke would have the second highest kill count. JD probably has the highest. Maybe.
> 
>  
> 
> The lyrics in this chapter are from Que Sera Sera, composed by Jay Livingston, written by Ray Evans, and performed by Doris Day.


	9. The Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue gets a clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomit and a bit of blood

   J.D. walked through the bloody streets, his trenchcoat flowing behind him. His single eye surveyed the houses around him. Their clouded windows reflected the dark figure as he continued down the street. His motorbike had been destroyed in his little “accident,” forcing him to walk several blocks to reach his destination. His hand brushed against the gun he carried as a small group of zombies shambled toward him. There was a significantly higher number of walking corpses in that particular area. He glared as they approached, his lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing rows of shark-like teeth. “Fuck off,” he growled.

   The crowd of zombies immediately parted as they walked around him. J.D. smirked and continued walking. He turned his gaze back to the houses. One house in particular stood out. A faded smell drifted from it. Although it was very faint, he knew it belonged to _her_. “ _Here we go_ ,” he thought, heading toward it.

   He stepped through the overgrown weeds that covered the lawn. He moved toward the door and grabbed the handle. It was stuck. He yanked on it, but it did not budge. The zombie sighed, looking for another way in. He eyed an open window. It was pretty high up, seeing that it was on the second floor, but luckily for him, there was a large tree right next to it. He pulled himself up onto the lowest branch and began climbing. He pushed open the window and crawled into the house. He found himself in a faded blue room. A torn up bed stood in the center of the room, its shredded sheets covered in blood. The walls and floor were covered in large scratches and claw marks, like some feral beast had attempted to tear its way out of the room. _Her_ scent was much stronger in this room.

   An overturned writing desk was shoved up against a wall, ripped paper and broken pens surrounding it. A small notebook poked out from underneath it. J.D. shoved the desk aside and picked it up. He opened it, carefully flipping through the pages. It was a diary. _Her_ diary. He grinned, it was exactly what he needed. He slipped the diary into his pocket and turned back toward the window. He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He whipped out is gun and pointed it at the door to the bedroom. A small, gray tabby walked in, mewing pitifully. J.D. lowered the gun and stared at it. The tabby was very skinny, its ragged fur clinging to its bony frame. His eye softened and he knelt down on the floor, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of chips. He tore open the bag and set it on the floor. The cat crept over and sniffed the bag. It suddenly shoved its head into the bag, greedily devouring the chips inside. J.D. gently stroked the cat’s back. “How long have you been here?” he said, quietly.

   The cat mewed in response. It rubbed its face against the zombie’s hand. He carefully scooped it up. He climbed out the window and began descending back down the tree. He returned to the street and set the cat on the ground. The cat weaved its way around his legs.

   “You should go, things might get a bit messy,” said J.D., eyeing the cat.

   The cat looked up at him with unblinking green eyes and voiced its complaint. J.D. sighed, “fine, since you’re probably going to follow me back anyway.”

   He began walking, the cat following close behind.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue coughed, spitting out chunks of half-digested food. She groaned and rested her forehead on the toilet seat.

   “Are you done?” asked Duke.

   The green Heather sat behind her, holding the zombie’s dark hair back for her. Blue nodded, wiping the bile from her lips. It had been worse than the last few times. She clutched her empty stomach. The last few days had been _hell_. She was always starving. No matter what she ate, the hunger continued to gnaw at her.

   “Hey!” said Duke, grabbing the zombie’s arm. “Did you hear me?”

   Blue shook her head. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, quietly.

   Duke sighed. “It’s fine. I said ‘let’s go back.’ ” she huffed, standing up.

   “Alright,” said Blue, pushing herself up.

◊ ◊ ◊

_“Greetings and salutations. You want a slurpee with that?”_

_“No, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a Big Gulp.”_

_“That’s like going to Mickey D’s to order a salad. Slurpee’s the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”_

_“I said Big Gulp. So...are you going to tell me your name?”_

_“Jason Dean, ‘J.D.’ for short.”_

_“And I’m-”_

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue’s eyes snapped open. She sat up, panting heavily. She touched her forehead as details of the dream slowly returned. _He_ had been there. The trenchcoat-zombie was there. The more she remembered, the more real it felt. She sighed, there were so many questions she wanted to ask, but the only person who could probably answer them was… Blue shook her head. She  _had_ to go back there. She needed answers.

   She looked at the Heathers. They all slept in one big pile. Duke had her arms protectively wrapped around Mac’s thin frame. Duke looked surprisingly peaceful. Both were wedged underneath Chandler, who somehow managed to take up more space than both of them. Blue carefully slid out from underneath the blanket. She grabbed her croquet mallet and the rope, quietly sneaking out of the room. The zombie lowered herself out one of the windows, landing on the ground with a soft _thud_. She took a deep breath and disappeared into the night. Hopefully she would be back before any of the Heathers noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JD doesn't understand that some doors open the other way.
> 
> The cat is JFK btw.


	10. There and Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica returns to the 7-Eleven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, the next will be much longer.
> 
> TW: Some gore

   Blue ducked through the narrow alleyways, the dull glow from her eyes illuminating the cracked walls around her. She bumped into a trash can, knocking it over. The zombie froze as a loud clatter echoed through the abandoned streets. Several glowing pairs of eyes began to make their way toward the noise. Blue backed away and ran into another alley. She slammed into a brick wall. Dead end. She cursed under her breath and turned around. A group of zombies blocked her path, too many for her to fight. She looked around and spotted a large dumpster near a low-hanging roof. She quickly climbed on top it and began pulling herself onto the roof of the small building. A hand grabbed her leg. Blue looked down and saw that a zombie had climbed its way onto the dumpster. She repeatedly slammed her other foot into the zombie’s face, hoping that it would release its grip. The zombie only snarled and held on tighter. “I am nothing like you!” Blue screamed, kicking the zombie in the jaw.

   Blue narrowly avoided falling off the roof as the zombie fell off the dumpster, taking her shoe with it. She climbed farther onto the roof and looked back. No way in hell she was going back there. She moved over to the other side of the building and dropped back to the ground. Hopefully, she would be gone before they found her again.

   She passed by a corpse. Its head was smashed apart, blood leaking everywhere. She tore her gaze away from the gruesome sight and broke into a run. She finally reached the mostly abandoned 7-Eleven. He _had_ to be there, or she would have lost a shoe for nothing. She walked over to the door and squeezed herself through the narrow gap. She scanned the dark store, looking for the trenchcoat-wearing zombie. Suddenly, the lights flickered on. Blue whirled around to see J.D. directly behind her, one hand on the light switch and a slushie cup in the other. “And here I thought I would be the one looking for you,” he chuckled, moving toward her.

   Blue backed away, watching him, warily. “And you still don’t remember me,” J.D. sighed, taking a sip of his slushie.

   “But you remember me,” said Blue. “Why is that?”

   J.D. raised a brow. “So now you’re interested.”

   “You said this is where we first met.”

   “Indeed it is,” said J.D. “Do you want a tour?”

   Blue glared at him. “I want my memories back,” she growled, angrily.

   She let out a yelp as something brushed against her leg. She looked down to see a small gray tabby affectionately rubbing its face against her. The cat looked up at her with its big green eyes before leaping into her arms. “Why do you have a cat?” asked Blue.

   “He’s not mine,” said J.D. “I was only taking care of him until his owner came to collect him, and look who just showed up.”

   “And you know this, why?”

   J.D. reached into his coat and pulled out a small notebook. “All the answers you want are in here, _darling_.”

   Just as Blue began reaching for the book, the sun peeked out over the horizon. Blue looked outside. “Shit!” she cursed.

   She set down the cat and quickly ducked out the door. J.D. watched as she left. “ _Dammit_ ,” he thought. “ _I’ll have to get her another way._ ”

   He looked down. The cat had gone missing, as well. He sighed and took a long sip from his slushie.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue slowed her pace to a walk, panting. It was difficult running with only one shoe. Something rubbed against her leg. She jumped back, raising her croquet mallet in defense. The gray tabby tilted its head and mewled, questioningly. “What are you doing here?” asked Blue, bending down and scratching it behind the ears.

   The cat purred and rubbed its head against her hand. “You should go back. I don’t think the Heathers would want me to bring a cat home,” said the zombie.

   She continued walking through the abandoned town, the cat trailing behind her. Suddenly, the cat ran past her and leaped into an alley. Blue looked up in confusion. “What the-”

   She had no time to react as a large pickup truck slammed into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who could possibly be driving that truck?


	11. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look who it is!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the completion of what I have dubbed as the "First Act" of this story.

   “Is it dead?”

   “I don’t think so…”

   Blue groaned in pain. Everything hurt like hell. She was sure something was broken. She slowly cracked open her eyes just in time to see an incoming crowbar. She rolled over, narrowly avoiding it. She grunted in pain. Moving hurt even worse. She lay on her back and stared up at her attacker. He wore a dirty letterman jacket with a large “W” sewn on it. He raised the crowbar to strike again. Blue looked around and spotted her croquet mallet laying on the ground a few feet away. She grabbed it and held it up, blocking the crowbar. She swung it around and smashed it into her assailant's knee.

   Her attacker cried out in pain and fell to the ground, clutching his injured knee.

   “Oh my god, Kurt!”

   A skinny girl with glasses ran over to help Kurt up. Blue pushed herself up and began limping away, using the croquet mallet for support. “Betty, it’s getting away!” Kurt gasped, pointing at Blue.

   Betty turned and saw the fleeing zombie. “ _Shit_ ,” thought Blue, as the teen charged at her with a shovel.

   Blue ducked out of the way, raising her croquet mallet in defense. She blocked the next few attacks. The girl was clearly inexperienced with combat, but Blue was having trouble keeping up with her attacks in her injured state.

   “What kind of zombie are you?” Betty muttered, clumsily swinging her shovel at Blue.

   “The kind that wants you to _fuck off_!” Blue snarled.

   Blue was _done_ . Everything hurt, she had no memories, and Chandler was going to murder her when she got back. If she got back. Then there was the hunger. The _god damn hunger_. She honestly found death more appealing than what she felt each day.

   Betty froze, staring at her. “Oh my god…” she whispered.

   Blue took that opportunity to run. She turned a corner and disappeared into the maze of alleyways.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Betty numbly watched the fleeing zombie disappear behind a building. She had not recognized her at first, but there was no doubt about it. The zombie was-

   “Betty!”

   Kurt grabbed her shoulder, pulling her out of her stupor. “You good?” he asked.

   “Y-yeah…” Betty stuttered.

   “We should get back to Martha,” said Kurt, hopping into the pickup truck.

   Betty climbed in next to him. She gazed at where she had last seen the zombie. “ _I’ll find you again soon_ …” she thought.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue dropped through the basement window. Climbing up to the second story currently proved to be too much for her body. “I should really get Heather to board that up,” she muttered.

   She limped up the stairs, her footsteps echoing through the halls. She had managed to find her missing shoe on her way back. However, the cat stayed missing. She sighed. The Heathers definitely would have noticed her disappearance by now. “Where the hell were you?”

   Speak of the devil. Heather Chandler stood behind her, arms crossed. Blue turned around. “Can it wait?” she asked. “I didn’t exactly sleep last night.”

   “No. It can’t.” growled Chandler, stalking toward her. “Where. The hell. Did you go?”

   “I went out, okay! I thought that he could help me remember who I was, but I learned nothing!” Blue shouted.

   Chandler’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who could help you remember?”

   “Some insane asshole I found out there,” Blue huffed. “He said he knows who I was before this disaster happened.”

   “And did he hurt you?” asked Chandler. “You’re limping.”

   “No, I got hit by a truck,” the zombie replied. “There are at least two other survivors out there. A girl named Betty and some guy named Kurt.”

   Chandler stared at her. “Wait, did you say Kurt?”

   “Yeah…”

   Chandler barked out a laugh. “Holy fuck, _he’s_ still alive. I thought those two idiots would be the first to go.”

   She grabbed Blue’s arm and dragged her along. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

   Blue staggered along behind her. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Red flashed before her eyes as all rational thoughts faded away. She grabbed Chandler’s wrist, nails digging into her skin. “Blue…?” Chandler questioned, looking at the zombie in confusion.

   Blue let out a feral growl. A single instinct drove her now. _Hunt_. The blonde was nothing but fresh meat to her now. She could almost taste the blood that flowed through her veins. Without a second thought, she lunged forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god dammit kurt don't interrupt the narration do you know how expensive it is to repair the fourth wall


	12. Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things just got dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has some really messed up shit in it. If you are uncomfortable with any of the things listed, stop reading here.
> 
> TW: Blood, cutting, kind of torture

   Chandler felt the zombie’s nails dig into her wrist. She turned around. Blue was hunched over, snarling. The blue croquet mallet had fallen to the floor. “Blue…?” she questioned.

   The zombie slowly raised her face. Her teeth were bared and her eyes seemed to be glowing brighter than usual. She narrowed her eyes and lunged at Chandler. She instinctively struck the zombie directly in the face. Blue stumbled back and released her grip on the teen, leaving bloody scratches on Chandler’s wrist. “What the hell is wrong with you-” Chandler’s sentence was cut off as the zombie threw herself at the girl again.

   The smell of blood seemed to excite the undead monster even more, as she began foaming at the mouth. Chandler was shoved against the wall. The zombie snapped at her throat, her spit flying everywhere. Chandler struggled against her, pushing her face back to protect her throat, as the zombie clawed at her blazer, ripping it to shreds. She had greatly underestimated her strength as the zombie quickly overpowered her. She raised her uninjured arm as the beast attempted to tear out her throat. The zombie bit down on her arm. Chandler cried out in pain when she felt her bones breaking under the pressure. The zombie’s drool soaked the cloth around her mouth as she began tearing through the sleeve.

   Chandler barely registered Duke’s footsteps echoing through the hallways as the green-shirted girl raced toward them. Duke swung her baseball bat. The zombie fell to the ground, still foaming and growling with rage. She refused to let anyone take her meal from her. She attempted pushed herself up, but Duke planted her foot firmly on the zombie’s back, keeping her in place. She frantically clawed at the ground, screeching in fury. Duke swung her bat at the fallen zombie’s head, just hard enough to knock her unconscious. Blue fell limp, her struggles ceased.

   Mac ran down the hall, finally catching up with them. She stared at the scene in front of her. “W-what happened?” she whispered.

   She turned her attention to Chandler. The red Heather clutched her broken forearm, thin trails of blood flowing down her other arm. “Is she dead?” she gasped.

   “Unconscious,” replied Duke. “What should we do with her?”

   “Restrain her in case she attacks again,” Chandler ordered.

   Duke nodded and grabbed Blue’s arm, dragging her away. Mac ran over to Chandler. “Let’s get you fixed up,” she said.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Chandler and Mac walked into the classroom where Duke had placed Blue. The zombie was still unconscious. Duke had used their remaining rope to tie her to a chair. She had gagged her with the faded blue scarf in case she tried to bite one of them. Duke looked up when they came in. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the sling around Chandler’s arm. “Holy shi-”

   “Shut up. It’s not that bad,” Chandler cut her off. “I’d rather focus on _that_ over there.”

   She gestured to Blue. “Why would she do that? She seemed perfectly fine before!”

   “Hunger,” said Duke, flatly. “She was hungry.”

   “Being _hungry_ doesn’t exactly give her an excuse to try and rip me open!” Chandler snapped, holding up her damaged arm.

   “You forget she’s not like us. She’s a _zombie_. Zombies eat people.”

   “That’s still not an excuse! We invited her in. We made her one of us! And then she stabs us in the back!”

   “ _You_ let her in. _You made her one of us_!” Duke shouted back. “It’s your own fault!”

   “ _Me_? How the hell was I supposed to know that this would happen?”

   “Maybe the fact that she’s a _fucking_ corpse! Just like the rest of them!”

   “If you didn’t trust her, then why is she still alive?”

   Mac covered her ears as their arguing grew louder and louder. Finally, she could not take it. “She didn’t break the skin!” she cried.

   “The hell are you saying, Heather?” Duke snapped.

   “She bit Heather’s arm hard enough to break a few bones, but somehow, she didn’t draw blood,” Mac explained.

   “What does that have to do with anything?”

   “If she did draw blood, Heather would be dead. We don’t know much about zombies, but we do know that they can turn others with their bite,” said Mac. “Maybe…maybe there’s some small part of her left. If we give her what she wants then…”

   Duke turned to Chandler. “Heather has a point. If we give her some flesh-”

   “I am not letting her kill me!” Chandler snapped.

   “Well, there are plenty of dead bodies around the school. We can just bring her one of those,” Mac suggested.

   “No way,” said Duke. “Hell, if _I_ was a zombie, I still wouldn’t touch one of those disgusting things.”

   They sighed. “What do you propose we do then?” asked Mac.

   Chandler thought for a moment before saying, “I have an idea.”

◊ ◊ ◊

   Chandler placed a bowl on one of the desks. Blue was still unconscious in the other room. Duke and Mac looked at her in confusion. “What are you going to do?” asked Mac.

   Chandler pulled out a small knife and held it between her teeth. She slid the palm of her slightly less injured hand across the blade, wincing in pain. She held her hand over the bowl, allowing the blood to flow into it.

   “Heather, what the fuck?” Duke shouted.

   Chandler spat out the knife onto the desk. “If we can’t give her flesh, then we must give her blood.”

   Mac hesitantly picked up the knife and slid it across her palm. She held out her hand, blood dripping into the bowl. “Heather, you don’t need to do this,” said Chandler. “I’m already injured. Another scratch like that doesn’t matter to me.”

   “I know for a fact that you’ll pass out from blood loss before you have enough to give to her,” said Mac. “I want to help her, too.”

   Duke huffed and grabbed the knife, running it across her hand. Her blood was soon added to the bowl. “This had better work.”

◊ ◊ ◊

   Blue groaned, her head was pounding. She felt something in her mouth that felt like…cloth? She gagged in disgust and tried to spit it out. To her disappointment, she could not. She slowly opened her eyes. The room spun around her. She shook her head as everything came into focus. She was tied to a chair in one of the empty classrooms. She could hear the voices of the Heathers outside the door. She tried calling out to them, but her voice was muffled by the scarf.

   The door swung open and Chandler walked in, carrying a bowl. Blue stared at the sling around her arm. The teen shoved a desk in front of Blue and set the bowl on top of it. There was something unsettling about the red liquid in the bowl. Chandler leaned over and carefully removed the scarf. Blue looked up at her. “What happened? What…is this stuff?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

   Chandler gazed at the zombie, her icy-blue eyes betraying no emotion. “Eat,” she ordered, shoving the bowl toward her.

   Blue spotted a fresh bandage on Chandler’s hand. Bits of red were showing through. She sniffed the liquid in the bowl. It had a metallic scent to it, almost like- “Blood…” she whispered.

   She began panting as the tantalizing scent started to take over her thoughts. She shook her head. She was not like that anymore. “Heather…no…” said Blue. “I can’t…”

   Chandler leaned down, her cold, blue eyes boring into Blue’s empty, white ones. “ _Eat_ ,” she ordered, again.

   The soft glow of the zombie’s eyes flickered as she fought to keep her hunger at bay. “No! _No_!” Blue cried, her screams steadily growing louder.

   Suddenly, Chandler grabbed her hair and shoved her face into the bowl. “ _Eat, dammit_!” the blonde shouted.

   Blue struggled against her grip as bloody tears rolled down her cheeks. The smell of fresh blood was overwhelming. Finally, she could not take it anymore. All humanity faded away once again as she let out a feral growl. Chandler jumped back in surprise as she easily tore out of her restraints, pulling the bowl closer to her face. She greedily lapped up the blood as tears continued to fall, mixing with the blood spilling down her front.

◊ **Bonus** ◊ **Scene** ◊

   A dark shadow crept through the abandoned streets of Sherwood. A large building stood, outlined by the night sky. A small moonbeam broke through the clouds, illuminating the sign in front of it. “Westerberg High School” it read. The figure moved past it. They circled the building, discovering a small, broken window that lead into the basement. They dropped down inside, landing in the boiler room. They smirked and walked up the stairs into the gym.

   Their footsteps echoed through the hallways as they went back and forth to the different classrooms, checking inside each one. They got to the end of the hall and ascended the staircase, coming out onto the second floor. They did the same, checking each room until they found what they were looking for. A large file cabinet had been pushed in front of the door on the other side, but they could see the four girls sleeping inside. They particularly focused on the blue-clad girl who slept a few feet away from the other three. A grin spread across their face as they raised their hand against the glass that separated them.

   “ _Our love is God_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of "Act One." "Act Two" will be posted in this story as well.
> 
> I have a couple other stories planned. I really want to get a couple chapters of my Wonderland AU done. I have a few other AUs I want to write, too, because my brain will not let me focus on one thing. Keep an eye out for those.
> 
> Thank you for the support you have given me on this story.  
> Until next time,  
> -Raven Pen


	13. An Open Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks later, Blue gets a new lead on regaining her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, we're back. I don't really know what to say here, but I hope you enjoy this (kind of late) chapter.

_“She hates you, she fucking hates you.”_

_“She hates all of us, Heather.”_

_“And who’s fault is that?”_

_“Shut up!”_

   Blue crept away from the door, the muffled voices fading away. She still walked with a slight limp, using her croquet mallet for support. She climbed the stairs to the roof. A gust of cold wind greeted her as she stepped on to the roof. She barely even felt it. Over the past few weeks, the air had grown colder with each passing day. The zombie sighed and sat down on a nearby bench that she had pulled up to the edge of the roof. She pulled her coat tighter around herself. She refused to wear the blue blazer that the Heathers had first given her. No matter how many times she washed it, she could still smell the blood that had covered its front.

   Blue looked down at herself, frowning. These days, she hardly wore the color of her namesake. The coat looked a bit large on her husk of a body. It looked more like a bunch of black-and-white patches sewn into the shape of a coat. She had snagged it from Chandler’s “fuel for the fire” pile. She traced her fingers along the seams until they dipped into a pocket. She withdrew a small notebook. She ran a hand over the worn cover. She had awakened one morning to find it laying beside her. The zombie knew that it definitely did not belong to one of the Heathers. There was something about it that she could not describe.

   She cracked it open, like she had done every day since she had found it. She flipped through it. It was full of hastily scribbled diary entries. She could barely make out most of the words. Blue rubbed her right eye. For some reason, it always refused to focus when ever she tried to read. There was also the headache that increased as she got farther into the book. She began turning another page, her hands shaking. She could see several splatters of dried blood staining the next page. The pain in her head suddenly skyrocketed, causing her to drop the book. She hunched over, rubbing her temples. “God. Fucking. Dammit!” she growled.

   Something soft brushed against her. She looked over and saw the gray tabby. “Hey, cat,” she murmured, lifting it up and setting it on her lap.

   The gray tabby sometimes popped up in different places around the school. She scratched it behind its ears as it relaxed in her lap. The door to the roof swung open, and Heather Chandler strode out. The cat leaped off Blue’s lap and disappeared. The zombie quickly grabbed the fallen diary and stuffed it back into her pocket. “You’re up here, again?” the blonde muttered.

   Blue turned away, ignoring her. Chandler sat down next to the zombie. The zombie scooted away. She pulled her legs up on the bench and hugged her knees close to her chest. “Jesus fucking christ, it’s cold,” Chandler grumbled. “How can you stand being up here so often?”

   Blue huffed in response. Chandler sighed and reached into her blazer, pulling out a faded blue scarf. “Put this on. You’ll look better with it,” she said, placing on the bench.

   The red Heather stood up and went back inside. Blue picked up the scarf. Something fell out from the folds of fabric. She quickly grabbed it before it hit the ground. The item was a monocle hanging from a long cord. She slipped it around her neck and popped it into her eye, as though she had done it many times before. She pulled out the notebook and reopened it. The text was much clearer now. “ _Whoever wrote this definitely didn’t like the Heathers_ ,” she thought, eyeing the many rants about them.

   The pain had dulled significantly, like a missing piece had been restored. She skimmed the pages until she reached the final entry. The zombie took a deep breath and turned the page. The next page was covered in dried blood. The writing had suddenly turned to illegible scribbles that spread across the page. Her migraine suddenly returned. She clutched her head in agony as an old memory fought its way to the surface.

   The smell of smoke and echoes of screams permeated her senses. An image of an old bedroom, the walls and floors covered with scratches and blood, lingered for a moment before fading away. Blue’s eyes snapped open. She gasped for breath. She shoved the book back into her pocket. She definitely had a better lead than last time. She grimaced, remembering the trenchcoat-zombie. Blue grabbed her scarf and went back inside.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Chandler moved through the hallways, clutching her injured arm. It had almost completely healed. Only a thin layer of bandages covered it now. The blonde scratched at it. The wound had been acting up recently, tingling whenever she got within a few feet of Blue, or any other zombie she encountered in the school. She would find herself running into the zombie on multiple occasions. Far too often for it to be a coincidence for her taste.

   She ducked into an empty classroom. The blonde pulled back her sleeve and began peeling away the bandages. Unravelling the off-white strips. She tugged the last of them off, revealing what lay underneath. The indentation of the zombie’s teeth where she had bitten her had not disappeared. They had turned a dark color, almost black. The skin around it had become a pale, sickly gray. The strange hue covered most of her forearm, stopping just short of her elbow on one side, and her wrist on the other. She could see the faint outlines of the veins that ran up her arm. She touched it. The area felt cold and numb.  _Dead_.

   The blonde had begun tending to her injury by herself when it first started to change. Luckily for her, it had not spread farther than it already had, so it had been fairly easy to hide. She feared what would happen if the others found out. _Afraid_. Chandler barked out a dry laugh. Heather “Mythic Bitch” Chandler, she was well aware of what the student body had called her. Heather Chandler, the Demon Queen of Highschool, was afraid.

   She re-wrapped the bandages, just as Duke barged into the classroom. “Heather!” Duke yelled.

   “What?” the blonde snapped, glaring at Duke.

   “That weird cat just stole like, a third of your corn nuts,” said the green Heather, “again.”

   “Son of a bitch!” Chandler spat, running out of the room. “I am going to _kill_ the damn thing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chandler has become a zombie proximity detector. Also, JFK defies the laws of time, space, and physics.


	14. Ready...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting two chapters today.

   “You’re leaving again?”

   Blue faced Chandler, her lips slowly curling into a snarl. Chandler stood in front of the window, the easiest way out. “Let me pass,” the zombie hissed.

   The red Heather narrowed her eyes. “You know what? No,” the blonde retorted, crossing her arms. “I’m sick of these little outings of yours.”

   The zombie had been slipping out the past few nights, chasing after her lost memories. Her desperation was building. She gripped her croquet mallet tighter. “Let. Me. Pass!” she snarled, again.

   Chandler held her ground. Blue lunged forward, attempting to shove her aside. Chandler grabbed the zombie’s wrist, twisting it painfully. The zombie cried out in pain as the blonde shoved her to the ground. The croquet mallet clattered to the floor. “You’re a brat. A fucking brat,” Chandler spat.

   Pain shot through Chandler’s arm. She scratched at the bandages beneath her sleeve. Blue curled up on the floor, clutching her wrist. Chandler moved toward her. The zombie flinched away, pushing herself up and grabbing the croquet mallet. She quickly ran out the door. The blonde gave chase as Blue practically jumped down the stairs to the ground floor.

   Blue ran until she reached the front doors to the building. They were completely boarded up from the inside. She began tearing them away. She would leave this building, one way or another. The zombie heard the echo of Chandler’s footsteps as the blonde neared her. Blue tore away the last board and yanked the door open, almost tearing it off its hinges.

   Chandler stopped a few feet behind her. “If you leave this building, you won’t be coming back,” she said, her voice eerily calm.

   Blue gazed at her, milky-white eyes meeting icy blue. She turned around and stepped out into the cold air outside. The door slammed shut behind her. The wind whipped through her hair. She began walking. When she was sure that she was out of Chandler’s sight, she took out the scarf. She felt the faded blue fabric beneath her fingertips. It was one of the last remnants of her time before the Heathers. She wrapped it around her neck, pulling part of it over her face. She could smell traces of Chandler’s perfume mixed with her own scent. The zombie huffed and continued forward.

   There seemed to be a lot more zombies roaming the streets than usual. Blue did her best to avoid them. She narrowed her eyes. There was a strange, oppressive feeling in the air. She had not noticed it before, but the zombies appeared to be waiting for something. A low growl rumbled in her throat. She did not like it.

   Suddenly, a large pickup truck came flying around the street corner. It screeched to a halt a few feet away from her. The zombie raised her croquet mallet in defense, backing away, slowly. A human jumped out of the truck. Blue recognized the dirty letterman jacket he wore, immediately. He charged at her, crowbar in hand. Blue ran in the opposite direction. Her foot caught in one of the cracks in the pavement. She tripped, falling-face first to the ground. Her pursuer was upon her, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. A piece of cloth was forced into her mouth. She let out a chain of muffled curses as her wrists were tied together behind her back. The zombie kicked and squirmed as her attacker carried her back to the truck. He roughly tossed her in the back of the truck, along with her croquet mallet. The truck started up, driving down the abandoned streets. Blue lay, quietly, in the back. Her will to fight had slowly faded away, as she was taken to an unknown destination.

◊ ◊ ◊

   Kurt climbed back into the truck. Betty glared at him from where she sat in the passenger seat. “Was all that really necessary?” she asked.

   “Hey, after what that bitch did to my leg, she definitely deserved it,” Kurt retorted. “Besides she’s one of _them_.”

   “You tried to smash her head in with a crowbar. How did you think she was going to react?” Betty huffed. “And she’s not ‘one of _them_ ,’ she’s…different. She can _think_. I-I need to find out how and-and…”

   She looked down at her feet. She knew the zombie currently tied up in the back of the truck. She could recognize the face of her childhood friend anywhere. They pulled up to an old building. The old radio station. They hopped out of the truck. Kurt grabbed the zombie, carrying her over his shoulder. Betty unlocked the door and they slipped inside. “Martha! It’s us!” Betty called.

   They walked up a flight of stairs, coming into a long hallway. One of the doors stood slightly ajar. Betty peered in, seeing Martha sitting at the desk. Upon seeing the headphones the girl was wearing, Betty thought it best not to disturb her. Kurt shoved the zombie into another room. “Have fun!” he said, before locking the door behind her.

   Betty gave Kurt a confused look. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

   Suddenly, the sounds of hissing and growling sounded from the room where Kurt had put the zombie. A high pitched scream came from the room. Betty yanked open the door. The zombie that they had brought in was hissing and growling through the gag from where she sat beside the door. A second figure was cowering in the far corner of the room, rubbing at his face and moaning in pain. The zombie stopped growling and glared at them.

   “What did you do?” Betty snapped, turning back to Kurt.

   Kurt walked over to the second figure, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Aw, come on. You know Ram is harmless,” he retorted.

   The former linebacker was only a fragment of who he had once been. The male zombie bared his teeth and snarled at the female. She ignored him, focusing her attention on Betty. Betty grabbed her and quickly ushered her out of the room, muttering curses under her breath.


	15. ...Aim...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica wants to be in the room where it happened.

   Blue stumbled along as the girl shoved her into another room. The girl pulled out a pocket knife and cut through the ropes around the zombie’s wrists. Blue tore away the gag. “What the fuck is wrong with you people!” she screamed.

   The girl jumped in surprise. She gazed at Blue before pulling the zombie into a tight embrace. Blue was at a loss for words. Who _was_ this girl? She felt her arms move to awkwardly return the hug. She heard the girl sniffle. Her tears were soaking through the zombie’s jacket. “I-I’ve missed you so much!” the girl sobbed. “I thought you were dead!”

   Blue froze. She felt the pain in her head returning. Bloody tears pricked her eyes. She pulled away from the girl, wiping away her tears before they fell. “I’m sorry…” she murmured. “I don’t…I don’t know who you are. I can’t remember anything…”

   The girl stared at her, tears running down her face. “It’s me, Betty,” she said. “We’ve been friends since…forever, and-and Martha’s here, too! You have to at least remember us, V-”

   Blue ran for the door. She needed to get out of here. She needed to find the room. She slammed into someone, knocking them both to the floor. She recognized him as the male, Kurt, who had kidnapped her. She grabbed her croquet mallet from him and raced down the stairs. The zombie ran outside. She looked around, realizing that she had no idea where she was. She groaned.

   Kurt clambered down the stairs. Blue had no time to react as he grabbed her from behind, again. She kicked and screamed as she was carried back toward the building. “I have to find it!” she cried, bloody tears running down her face.

   She gasped in surprise when she was shoved into the front seat of the pickup truck. Kurt climbed in next to her and shut the door. The girl, Betty, sat down on her other side. Kurt started up the truck, and they pulled away from the building. The zombie was frozen in shock. Where were they going now?

◊ ◊ ◊

   It was a very awkward car ride, to say the least. Other than Betty occasionally giving directions, they sat in silence. The air was tense, making Blue uneasy. They finally stopped in front of a house. Betty and Kurt hopped out of the car. Blue hesitantly followed. “Why are we here?” she asked.

   “It’s your house,” said Betty, shifting nervously.

   Blue looked at the house. The front yard was completely overgrown with weeds. The grass reached above her ankles. She slowly walked toward the house, as though something was gently pulling her along. She came up to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob. It was locked. The zombie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, pulling out a bobby pin. She bent the wires into the correct shape and slipped them into the lock. She had seen Duke do it multiple times. How hard could it be? After a few minutes of trial and error, she heard a satisfying click. She pushed the door open and walked into the house.

   It was very dark inside, but her glowing eyes provided a small amount of light. She wandered through the house. It was empty, completely devoid of life. The wallpaper was peeling and shattered glass covered the floor. She walked into the living room. The TV lay smashed apart on the floor. The screen was dark. She ascended the staircase. The wall was covered in old photographs, most of them of a girl with dark hair. She bore a striking resemblance to Blue, albeit much younger. The zombie pulled a picture off the wall. The girl was standing in a sunny yard, croquet mallet in hand. Blue saw that Betty was also in the picture. Both of them looked so happy. She placed the picture back on the wall and continued upstairs.

   Blue walked through a narrow hallway. She pushed open the door closest to her. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was the same room she had seen in her memory. She stepped into the room. She was immediately hit with the smell of smoke and the sound of screaming. She clutched her head in agony. “ _It’s not real_! _It already happened_ ,” she thought, as she stumbled over to the window.

   The pain faded away as a new sound filled the air. The truck’s car alarm was going off. She could hear Kurt swearing as he tried to shut it off. Blue froze. She could feel a presence behind her. A hand grabbed her shoulder as the figure leaned over. She felt their cool breath against her skin as they spoke. “Greetings and salutations,  _darling_.”

   Blue whipped around, gasping when she saw the trenchcoat-zombie, J.D., standing behind her. She leaped away, raising her croquet mallet in defense. “Oh, don’t tell me you still don’t remember,” he chuckled. “I made sure you got my little gift.”

   “Get away from me,” Blue snarled.

   “Don’t be like that, darling,” he said.

   He moved forward with surprising speed, yanking the croquet mallet out of her grasp and tossing it away. He shoved her onto the bed and pinned her down. “After everything I did for you, you should be grateful,” he hissed. “I made this new world specially for you.”

   Blue stared at him. “Wh-what are you talking about?” she asked.

   His grin widened. “Well, I wasn’t expecting the bomb to go off so soon, you see,” he began explaining. “I just wanted to drop it off as a little surprise to those assholes at the power plant. That place was already slated for demolition. I only wanted to make the job a bit easier. The apocalypse was just a nice little bonus.”

   “You son of a bitch!” Blue shouted, struggling against him. “People  _died_ because of you!”

   “And the world is better off without them! You said so, yourself.”

   With a roar of fury, Blue shoved him off of her. She wrestled with him, clawing at face and neck. He easily overpowered her once more, kneeing her in the gut. Blue fell to the floor, gasping for breath. J.D. lifted her by the front of her jacket and slammed her into the wall. “They made you cry,” he murmured. “But not anymore. Once their _filth_ is completely wiped off the surface of this planet, then we can build a new world together.”

   “You’re…fucking…psychotic!” Blue gasped, through her weak attempts to push him away.

   J.D. gently cupped her face with one hand. The other reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a bright, red scrunchie. He dangled it in front of her, teasingly. “Our love is God, **_Veronica_** ,” he said. “You’ll thank me, later.”

   Blue’s eyes slowly widened. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. J.D. ignored her. He had somewhere else to be. He walked out of the room, checking his gun. Four bullets. One for each Heather, one in case he missed. “ _I never miss_ ,” he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay. So I just really need to get this out here. I've been contemplating doing a spin-off focusing on the Betty, Kurt, and others group. I think it would probably help explain some things in this story. I wanted to try to fit everything in this story, but in the direction that it's going, there isn't enough time in the story to explain everything that's been going on with them (and some prequel stuff). I'd probably start writing it once I finish this story. Please let me know what you think about this.


	16. ...Fire!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author decided to throw all rationality out the window to go out on a very long tangent and temporarily forgot what this story is actually about. Don't worry, it worked out just fine. Hopefully.
> 
>  
> 
> TW: blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this...chapter...? I apologize for the delay.

   Blue fell to the floor, gasping for breath. She watched as J.D. left the room, desperately clawing at the floor in an attempt to follow him. She slumped to the floor in defeat. His words echoed through her mind.  ** _Veronica_ ** he had called her. “ _Veronica_ …” she murmured.

   The pain suddenly returned. The zombie screamed in agony as it coursed through her head. It felt like it was splitting apart. Finally, something broke. Memories came flooding through, appearing one after another. They danced in front of her vision before being whisked away to fill the gaps that had been made inside her mind. Sights. Sounds. Smells. Faces of people. So many colors. The final memory floated by. It lingered in front of her. She knew exactly what it was. The last thing she remembered before she died.

◊ ◊ ◊

_The girl sat in her room, her diary on the desk in front of her, and her pen hovering just above the page. She chewed her lip, thinking of what else to write. Suddenly, the house was rocked by the sound of an explosion. The girl covered her head as the windows blew out, pieces of broken glass raining down everywhere. Her desk crashed to the floor, the force from the explosion having knocked it over. The girl felt a stinging pain on her cheek. A piece of glass was buried in her skin. She pulled it out, gasping in pain. Fresh blood poured down her cheek, splattering onto her diary._

_The girl slowly walked toward the window. She sighed with relief that she had been too lazy to pull off her shoes when she got home, lest she cut herself on the pieces of broken glass scattered around the floor. The girl pulled her gray cardigan tighter as she peered outside. She was immediately hit with the smell of smoke. Her eyes watered as she looked out over the town. She could barely see anything through the thick haze._

_She stumbled back, coughing. Blood dribbled down her chin and she could feel more rolling down her cheeks like tears. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she fell to the floor. She gasped for breath as she coughed up more and more blood. Something was burning deep inside of her. Her body felt as though it was being torn apart as it clawed its way to the surface. Screams echoed around her. She barely registered that they were her own._

_Her nails dug into the floor, creating long gashes in the wood as she dragged them across the floor. She stood up, a low growl emanating from her throat. Her body moved forward and began tearing into the thing closest to her, the bed. The girl realized that she was not the one moving it. She could no longer feel her limbs. Something else was had taken over._

_Everything that was going on was displayed in front of her, as though she was watching it on a movie screen. The girl desperately attempted to stop herself, but something forced her back. It began biting into her, tearing apart what was left of her, piece by piece. She struggled to pull away, but the thing’s grip had her pinned to the “ground.” With a roar of fury, she flung it off and retreated to the farthest corner of her mind._

_She huddled in the corner, clutching what remained of her, tightly. She refused to let_ that thing _take it away. It charged toward her again. The girl turned her gaze away and summoned up what little strength she had left. Walls formed around her as she created her fortress. Darkness surrounded her as the last few bricks slid into place. Nothing would break through. She was safe._

 _The thing slammed against her barricade as it tried to reach her. It prowled around the outside, looking for a way in. The girl felt it settle down, just outside her walls. It was waiting. She was trapped. Her fortress had become her prison. However, she too, could wait. She would gather her strength, and one day she would drive_ that thing _out of her mind._

◊ ◊ ◊

 _The girl paced inside her fortress-prison-cell. It was terrible, being trapped in her own mind, inside a cell that she, herself, had created. She hated_ that thing _in her mind. She could feel its hunger as it searched for fresh meat to tear into. She huffed and sat down. She had managed to will a “body” for herself into existence while she waited. It gave her some comfort while she waited. How many days had passed, she had no idea._

_Finding ways to pass the time had not been easy. Sometimes she would walk in circles around the room, as though she could find a way out. Other times she would just lie on her back at stare, vacantly, into the surrounding darkness. She found that she could summon up memories and view them as though they were part of a lengthy documentary of her old life. She had no access to food or water, not that she needed them. All she really needed was sleep. It was all she really did. After all, it was the best way to pass the time. She lay down on the “floor” of her cell. She relaxed, allowing her “body” to dissipate._

_Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from overhead. She jolted up, reforming her “body” as she tried to process what had just happened. A bright light filled her vision. She squinted, attempting to find its source. Her eyes widened in shock. A crack had appeared in her wall. She raced toward it. It was very small, she could barely fit more than two “fingers” through it. She looked through the crack._ That thing _had disappeared, but she could still feel it. However, it was much weaker than before._

_Outside her walls, everything was once again displayed in front of her. Although…all she could really see was the floor. She groaned. She was still unable to control her body. Her vision shifted, slowly moving up to look around the room. She recognized it immediately as one of Westerberg High’s science rooms. She looked over the different objects in the room. She gasped when she heard her own voice repeating their names as she saw them. She experimented a bit, before figuring out that although she did not have full control of her body, she could force her thoughts through the small fracture in her wall. Well…it was a start, at least._

◊ ◊ ◊

_The girl lay on her back, staring up into the surrounding darkness. So much had happened. The world had ended, most of the human race was dead, and some of only survivors were the people she hated the most. Yet here she was, still trapped in her own mind. Whatever was controlling her body was only sliver of who she was. The only pieces of her it had were her dwindling sanity and the memories she was able to force through. Now, it wanted more, and she wanted out._

_She breathed out a sigh and moved over to the crack. It had grown wider each time her counterpart attempted to reach her. She shuddered, thinking back to the mental battles that ensued as_ that thing _tried to force its way through, as well. She would have lost her most recent one, if not for her unlikely savior who distracted_ it _with the smell of fresh blood. Who would have thought that the Heathers had souls?_

_She peered into the outside world once again. Her “eyes” widened in surprise when she found herself staring at her old room. The small feeling of happiness died when lo and behold, the undead horror that was her former crush suddenly appeared. She listened intently to the conversation going on outside, anger boiling up from inside her. Honestly, jump-starting the apocalypse because she almost got run over was a bit extreme._

_“Our love is God,_ **Veronica** _.”_

 _She began tearing away at her walls. She_ had _to get out. The walls crumbled to the ground. Her “body” dissipated as she rushed out, spreading to the farthest corners of her mind._ That thing _charged toward her. She let out a roar of fury, rushing forward to meet it. The two clashed, each fighting for control over the other. The battle dragged on, as neither of them could gain the upper hand. Finally, she managed to pin it down._ It _hissed and clawed at her. She easily tossed it away._ It _let out a weak cry, scrabbling toward her in an attempt to attack again before falling once more and fading away. She had won._

◊ ◊ ◊

   The cat carefully stepped through the long grass, heading toward the familiar house. He leapt through an open window and headed for the stairs. The scent of his mistress grew stronger as he reached the top. He squeezed through the narrow opening, coming out into her room. She lay on the floor, unmoving. He jumped onto her back, mewling loudly. He began pressing his paws down on her, allowing his claw-tips to pierce her back when she did not stir. He let out an irritated growl and grabbed a mouthful of her hair with his teeth. He tugged at it, pulling with all his might.

   She groaned and rolled over onto her back. He leaped off her back and circled around to her face. He headbutted her. Her eyes fluttered open. A small smile graced her lips when she saw him. Veronica Sawyer was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters left...and possibly a companion piece that explains some shit that needs explaining. Please tell me what you think about it.


End file.
